1  *~\  /*\  C  ^  "T7 

iQOSI 


I 


MOTHER  GOOSE 


FOK 


GROWN   FOLKS, 


A     CHRISTMAS     READINO. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  BILLINGS. 


NEW  YORK: 
RUDD  &  CARLETON,  130  GRAND  STREET. 

(BROOKS  BCILDING,  COKNEK  or  BROADWAY). 
M  DCCC  LX. 


Kntered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1859,  by 

mil. LIPS,    SAMPSON,    AND    COMPANY, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


CONTENTS 


PAGl 
INTRODUCTORY  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .1 

BRAIIMIC •  •  G 

LITTLE    BOY   BLUE •  .9 

JACK   IIOUNER 13 

BO-PEEP       ......•••       18 

SOLOMON   GRUNDY  

BOWLS  .........       23 

CRADLED  IX  GREEN 27 

VSIMILIA    SIMILIBUS" 30 

HOBBY-HORSES 34 

MISSIONS ...       36 

GOING  BACK  TO   OUR   MUTTONS         ....  40 

GOING   TO  DOVER 44 

RAGS    AND   ROBES    .  .  .  .  .  .  .  47 

BLACKBIRDS 52 

BANBURY   CROSS  57 


M181394 


IV  CONTENTS. 

THE  MAD  HORSE 62 

THE  BIG   SHOE  CK 

...  DO 

VICTUALS   AND   DRINK           .            .  ™ 

COBWEBS   AND   BROOMS                ...  7g 

BLACK    SPIDERS               ....  79 
DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY 


81 

BAA,   BAA,   BLACK  SHEEP.'             ...  g-4 

THE    TWISTER 

•           •  •            .           oo 

FANTASY 

•            •  «            .00 

JINGLING   AND   JANGLING           ...  92 

THE   OLD    WOMAN   OF    SURREY    ...  97 

PICKLE    PEPPERS 

•  .            .         Iv/U 

HUMPTY  DUMPTY          ....  10? 

SUNDAY   AND    MONDAY                 ...  JQ6 
CONCLUSION 


INTRODUCTORY. 


SOMEWHERE  in  that  uncertain  "  long  ago," 
Whose  dim  and  vague  chronology  is  all 

That  elfin  tales  or  nursery  fables  know, 

Rose  a  rare  spirit, —  keen,  and  quick,  and 
quaint,  — 

Whom  by  the  title,  whether  fact  or  feint, 
Mythic  or  real,  Mother  Goose  we  calL 

Of  Momus  and  Minerva  sprang  the  birth 

That  gave  the  laughing  oracle  to  earth : 

i 


2  INTRODUCTORY. 

A  brimming  bowl  she  bears,  that,  frothing 

high 

"With  sparkling  nonsense,  seemeth  non 
sense  all; 

Till,  the  bright,  floating  syllabub  blown  by, 
Lo,  in  its  ruby  splendor  doth  upshine 
The  crimson  radiance  of  Olympian  wine 
By  Pallas  poured,  in  Jove's  own  banquet- 
hall. 

The  world  was  but  a  baby  when  she  came ; 
So  to  her  songs  it  listened,  and  her  name 
Grew  to  a  word  of  power,  her  voice  a  spell 
"With  charm  to  soothe  its  infant  wearying 

well. 

But,  in  a  later  and  maturer  age, 
Developed  to  a  dignity  more  sage, 
Having    its    Shakspeares    and   its   Words- 
worths  now, 


INTRODUCTORY.  3 

Its  Southeys  and  its  Tennysons,  to  wear 

A  halo  on  the  high  and  lordly  brow, 

Or  poet-laurels  in  the  waving  hair ; 

Its  Lowells,  Whittiers,  Longfellows,  to  sing 

Ballads  of  beauty,  like  the  notes  of  spring, 

The  wise  and  prudent  ones  to  nursery  use 

Leave  the  dear  lyrics  of  old  Mother  Goose. 

Wisdom    of    babes,  —  the    nursery    Shak- 

speare  still, — 

Cackles  she  ever  with  the  same  good-will : 
Uttering  deep  counsels  in  a  foolish  guise, 
That  come  as  warnings,  even  to  the  wise ; 
As  when,  of  old,  the  martial  city  slept, 
Unconscious,  of  the  wily  foe  that  crept 
Under  the  midnight,  till  the  alarm  was  heard 
Out   from   the  mouth  of  Rome's  plebeian 

bird. 


4  INTRODUCTORY. 

Full  many  a  rare  and  subtile  thing  hath 

she. 

Undreamed  of  in  the  world's  philosophy : 
Toss-balls   for    children   hath    she    humbly 

rolled, 

That  shining  jewels  secretly  enfold ; 
Sibylline  leaves  she  casteth  on  the  air, 
Twisted  in  fool's-caps,  blown  unheeded  by, 
That,  in  their  lines  grotesque,  albeit,  bear 
Words  of  grave  truth,  and  signal  prophecy ; 
And  lurking  satire,  whose  sharp  lashes  hit 
A  world  of  follies  with  their  homely  wit ; 
With  here  and  there  a  roughly  uttered  hint, 
That   makes   you    wonder   at   the    beauty 

in 't ; 

As  if,  along  the  wayside's  dusty  edge, 
A   hot-house   flower   had   blossomed   in    a 

hedge. 


INTRODUCTORY.  5 

So,  like  brave  Layard  in  old  Nineveh, 
Among  the  memories  of  ancient  song, 
As  curious  relics,  I  would  fain  bestir ; 
And  gather,  if  it  might  be,  into  strong 
And  shapely  show,  some  wealth  of  its 

lost  lore; 
Fragments    of    Truth's    own    architecture, 

strewed 

In  forms  disjointed,  whimsical,  and  rude, 
That  yet,  to  simpler  vision,  grandly  stood 
Complete,  beneath  the   golden  light  of 
yore! 


BEAHMIC. 


IF  a  great  poet  think  he  sings, 
Or  if  the  poem  think  it 's  sung, 

They  do  but  sport  the  scattered  plumes 
That  Mother  Goose  aside  hath  flung. 

Far  or  forgot  to  me  is  near: 

Shakspeare  and  Punch  are  all  the  same  ; 
The  vanished  thoughts  do  reappear, 

And  shape  themselves  to  fun  or  fame. 

They  use  my  quills,  and  leave  me  out, 
Oblivious  that  I  wear  the  wings  ; 


BRAHMIC.  7 

Or  that  a  Goose  has  been  about, 
When  every  little  gosling  sings. 

Strong  men  may  strive  for  grander  thought, 
But,  six  times  out  of  every  seven, 

My  old  philosophy  hath  taught 

All  they  can  master  this  side  heaven. 


LITTLE    BOY    BLUE. 


"  Little  boy  blue  !  come  blow  your  horn ! 
The  sheep  in  the  meadow,  the  cows  in  the  corn ! 
Where  's  little  boy  blue,  that  looks  after  the  sheep  ? 
He 's  under  the  hay-mow,  fast  asleep ! " 

OF  morals  in  novels,  we  've  had  not  a  few ; 
With  now  and  then  novel  moralities  too ; 
And  we  've  weekly  exhortings  from  pulpit 

to  pew ; 
But  it  strikes  me,  —  and  so  it  may  chance 

to  strike  you, — 

Scarce    any  are   better   than  "Little    Boy 
Blue" 


10  LITTLE   BOY    BLUE. 

For  the  veteran  dame  knows  her  business 

right  well, 
And    her    quaint    admonitions    unerringly 

tell: 
She  strings  a  few  odd,  careless  words  in  a 

jingle, 

And  the  sharp,  latent  truth  fairly  makes 
your  ears  tingle. 

"  Azure-robed   Youth  ! "  she   cries,  "  up   to 

thy  post! 
And  watch,  lest  thy  wealth  be  all  scattered 

and  lost: 
Silly  thoughts  are  astray,  beyond  call  of 

the  horn, 
And  passion  breaks  loose,  and  gets  into  the 

corn! 


LITTLE    BOY    BLUE.  11 

Is  this  the  way  Conscience  looks  after  her 
sheep  ? 

In  the  world's  soothing  shadow,  gone  sound 
ly  asleep  ?  " 

Is  n't  that,  now,  a  sermon  ?  No  lengthened 
vexation 

Of  heads,  and  divisions,  and  argumenta 
tion, 

But  a  straightforward  leap  to  the  sure  ap 
plication  ; 

And,  though  many  a  longer  harangue  is 
forgot, 

Of  which  careful  reporters  take  notes  on 
the  spot, 

I  think,  —  as  the  "  Deacon  "  declared  of  his 
"shay," 


12  LITTLE   BOY    BLUE. 

Pat  together  for  lasting  for  ever  and  aye,  — 
A  like  immortality  holding  in  view, 
The  old  lady's  discourse  will  undoubtedly 
"dew"! 


JACK    HORNEE. 


"  Little  Jack  Homer 

Sat  in  a  corner 
Eating  a  Christmas  Pie  : 

He  put  in  his  thumb, 

And  pulled  out  a  plum, 
And  said,  *  What  a  great  boy  am  I ! '" 

An,  the  world  hath  many  a  Horner, 

Who,  seated  in  his  corner, 
Finds   a    Christmas   Pie    provided   for   his 
thumb : 

And  cries  out  with  exultation, 

When  successful  exploration 
Doth  discover  the  predestinated  plum ! 


14  JACK   HORNER. 

Little  Jack  outgrows  his  tire, 

And  becometh  John,  Esquire ; 
And  he  finds  a  monstrous  pasty  ready  made, 

Stuffed  with  notes  and  bonds  and  bales, 

With  invoices  and  sales, 
And  all  the  mixed  ingredients  of  Trade. 

And  again  it  is  his  luck 

To  be  just  in  time  to  pluck, 
By  a  clever  "  operation/'  from  the  pie 

An  unexpected  "  plum  "  ; 

So  he  glorifies  his  thumb, 
And  says,  proudly,  "  What  a  mighty  man 
ami!" 

Or  perchance,  to  Science  turning, 
And  with  weary  labor  learning 
All  the  formulas  and  phrases  that  oppress 
her, — 


JACK    HORNER.  15 

For  the  fruit  of  others'  baking 
So  a  fresh  diploma  taking, 
Comes   he  forth,  a  full  accredited  Profes 
sor! 

Or  he 's  not  too  nice  to  mix 

In  the  dish  of  politics ; 
And  the  dignity  of  office  he  puts  on : 

And  he  feels  as  big  again 

As  a  dozen  nobler  men, 
While  he  writes  himself  the  Honorable  John! 

Nay,  he  need  not  quite  despair 

Of  the  Presidential  Chair : 
The  thing  is  not  unlikely  to  be  done ; 

Since  a  party  puppet  now 

May  wear  boldly  on  its  brow 
The  glory  that  a  Webster  never  won ! 


16  JACK  HOKNER. 

Not  to  hint  at  female  Homers, 

Who,  in  their  exclusive  corners, 
Think  tho  world  is  only  made  of  tipper  crust; 

And  in  the  funny  pie 

That  we  call  Society, 
Their  dainty  fingers  delicately  thrust : 

Till  it  sometimes  comes  to  pass, 

In  the  spiced  and  sugared  mass, 
One  may  compass  (don't  they  call  it  so  ?) 
a  catch  • 

And  the  gratulation  given 

Seems  as  if  the  very  heaven 
Had  outdone  itself  in  making  such  a  match ! 

0,  the  world  keeps  Christmas  Day 
In  a  queer,  perpetual  way ; 
Shouting  always,  "  What  a  great,  big  Boy 
ami!" 


JACK    HORNER.  17 

Yet  how  many  of  the  crowd, 

Thus  vociferating  loud, 
And  its  accidental  honors  lifting  high, 

Have  really,  more  than  Jack, 

With  all  their  lucky  knack, 
Had  a  finger  in  the  making  of  the  Pie  ? 


BO-PEEP. 


"  Little  Bo-Peep 

Has  lost  her  sheep, 
And  does  n't  know  where  to  find  'em ; 

Let  'em  alone, 
And  they  '11  come  home, 
And  bring  their  tails  behind  'em." 

HOPE  beckoned  Youth,  and  bade  him  keep, 
On  Life's  broad  plain,  his  shining  sheep, 
And  while  along  the  sward  they  came, 
He  called  them  over,  each  by  name ; 
This  one  was  Friendship, — that  was  Health; 
Another  Love,  —  another  Wealth ; 


BOPEEP.  19 

One,  fat,  full-fleeced,  was  Social  Station ; 
Another,  stainless,  Reputation ; 
In  truth,  a  goodly  flock  of  sheep, — 
A  goodly  flock,  but  hard  to  keep. 

Youth  laid  him  down  beside  a  fountain ; 
Hope  spread  his  wings  to  scale  a  mountain ; 
And,  somehow,  Youth  fell  fast  asleep, 
And  left  his  crook  to  tend  the  sheep : 
No  wonder,  as  the  legend  says, 
They  took  to  very  crooked  ways. 

He  woke  —  to  hear  a  distant  bleating,  — 
The  faithless  quadrupeds  were  fleeting ! 

Wealth  vanished  first,  with  stealthy  tread, 
Then  Friendship  followed  —  to  be  fed, — 
And  foolish  Love  was  after  led ; 


20  BOPEEP. 

Fair  Fame,  —  alas  !   some  thievish  scamp 
Had  marked  him  with  his  own  black  stamp ! 
And  he,  with  Honor  at  his  heels, 
Was  out  of  sight  across  the  fields. 

Health  just  hangs  doubtful,  —  distant  Hope 
Looks  backward  from  the  mountain  slope,  — 
And  Youth  himself —  no  longer  Youth  — 
Stands  face  to  face  with  bitter  Truth. 

Yet  let  them  go  !     'T  were  all  in  vain 
To  linger  here  in  faith  to  find  'em ; 
Forward  !  —  nor  pause  to  think  of  pain,  — 
Till  somewhere,  on  a  nobler  plain, 
A  surer  Hope  shall  lead  the  train 
Of  joys  withheld  to  come  again 

With  golden  fleeces  trailed  behind  'em ! 


SOLOMON    GRUNDY. 


"  Solomon  Grundy 
Born  on  Monday, 
Christened  on  Tuesday, 
Married  on  Wednesday, 
Sick  on  Thursday, 
"Worse  on  Friday, 
Dead  on  Saturday, 
Buried  on  Sunday : 
This  was  the  end 
Of  Solomon  Grundy." 

So  sings  the  unpretentious  Muse 
That  guides  the  quill  of  Mother  Goose, 
And  in  one  week  of  mortal  strife 
Presents  the  epitome  of  Life : 


22  SOLOMON    GRUNDY. 

But  down  sits  Billy  Shakspeare  next, 
And,  coolly  taking  up  the  text, 
His  thought  pursues  the  trail  of  mine, 
And,  lo  !  the  "  Seven  Ages  "  shine  ! 
0  world !  0  critics !  can't  you  see 
How  Shakspeare  plagiarizes  me  ? 

And  other  bards  will  after  come, 

To  echo  in  a  later  age, 
"  He  lived,  —  he  died :  behold  the  sum, 

The  abstract  of  the  historian's  page  "  ; 
Yet  once  for  all  the  thing  was  done, 

Complete  in  Grundy's  pilgrimage. 

For  not  a  child  upon  the  knee 
But  hath  the  moral  learned  of  me  ; 
And  measured,  in  a  seven  days'  span, 
The  whole  experience  of  man. 


BOWLS. 


"  Three  wise  men  of  Gotham 

Went  to  sea  in  a  bowl : 
If  the  bowl  had  been  stronger, 
My  song  had  been  longer." 

MYSTERIOUSLY  suggestive  !     A  vague  hint, 
Yet  a  rare  touch  of  most  effective  art, 
That  of  the  bowl,  and  all  the  voyagers  in 't, 
Tells  nothing,  save  the  fact  that  they  did 

start. 

There  ending  suddenly,  with  subtle  craft, 
The    story    stands,  —  as   'twere    a   broken 
shaft,  — ' 


24  BOWLS. 

More  eloquent  in  mute  signification, 
Than  lengthened  detail,  or  precise  relation. 
So  perfect  in  its  very  non-achieving, 
That,  of  a  truth;  I  cannot  help  believing 
A  rash  attempt  at  paraphrasing  it 
May  prove  a  blunder,  rather  than  a  hit. 

Still,  I  must  wish  the  venerable  soul 
Had  been  explicit  as  regards  the  bowl. 
Was  it,  perhaps,  a  railroad  speculation? 
Or  a  big  ship  to  carry  all  creation, 
That,  by  some  kink  of  its  machinery, 
Failed,  in  the  end,  to  carry  even  three  ? 
Or  other  fond,  erroneous  calculation 
Of  splendid  schemes  that  died  disastrously  ? 

It  must  have  been  of  Gotham  manufacture  ; 
Though  strangely  weak,  and  liable  to  frac 
ture. 


BOWLS.  25 

Yet  —  pause  a  moment  —  strangely,  did  I 

say? 

Scarcely,  since,  after  all,  it  was  but  clay ;  — 
The  stuff  Hope  takes  to  build  her  brittle 

boat, 

And  therein  sets  the  wisest  men  afloat. 
Truly,  a  bark   would    need    be    somewhat 

stronger, 
To  make  the  halting  history  much  longer. 

Doubtless,  the  good  Dame  did  but  gener 
alize,  — 

Took  a  broad  glance  at  human  enterprise, 
And  earthly  expectation,  and  so  drew, 
In  pithy  lines,  a  parable  most  true,  — 
Kindly  to  warn  us  ere  we  sail  away, 
With   life's    great    venture,   in    an    ark    of 
clay, 


26  BOWLS. 

Where  shivered  fragments  all  around  be 
token, 

How  even  the  "golden  howl"  at  last  lies 
broken  1 


CEADLED  IN  GEEEN 


«  Rockaby,  baby, 

Your  cradle  is  green ; 
Father 's  a  nobleman, 

Mother 's  a  queen  ; 
And  Betty  's  a  lady, 

And  wears  a  gold  ring, 
And  Johnny 's  a  drummer, 

And  drums  for  the  king  J " 

0  GOLDEN  gift  of  childhood ! 

That,  with  its  kingly  touch, 
Transforms  to  more  than  royalty 

The  thing  it  loveth  much ! 


28  CRADLED    IN    GREEN. 

0  second  sight,  bestowed  alone 

Upon  the  baby  seer, 
That  the  glory  held  in  Heaven's  reserve 

Discerneth  even  here ! 

Though  he  be  the  humblest  craftsman, 

No  silk  nor  ermine  piled 
Could  make  the  father  seem  a  whit 

More  noble  to  the  child ; 
And  the  mother, — ah,  what  queenlier  crown 

Could  rest  upon  her  brow, 
Than  the  fair  and  gentle  dignity 

It  weareth  to  him  now  ? 

E'en  the  gilded  ring  that  Michael 

For  a  penny  fairing  bought, 
Is  the  seal  of  Betty's  ladyhood 

To  his  untutored  thought; 


CRADLED    IN    GREEN.  29 

And  the  darling  drum  about  his  neck 

His  very  newest  toy, — 
A  bandsman  unto  Majesty 

Hath  straightway  made  the  boy ! 

0  golden  gift  of  childhood ! 

If  the  talisman  might  last, 
How  the  dull  Present  still  should  gleam 

With  the  glory  of  the  Past ! 
But  the  things  of  earth  about  us 

Fade  and  dwindle  as  we  go, 
And  the  long  perspective  of  our  life 

Is  truth,  and  not  a  show ! 


"SIMILIA  SIMILIBUS." 


"  There  was  a  man  in  our  town, 

And  he  was  wondrous  wise : 
He  jumped  into  a  bramble-bush, 

And  scratched  out  both  his  eyes. 
But  when  he  saw  his  eyes  were  out, 

With  all  his  might  and  main 
He  jumped  into  another  bush, 

And  scratched  them  in  again !  " 

OLD  Dr.  Hahnemann  read  the  tale, 
(And  he  was  wondrous  wise,) 

Of  the  man  who,  in  the  bramble-bush, 
Had  scratched  out  both  his  eyes. 


"SLMILIA    SLMILIBUS."  31 

And  the  fancy  tickled  mightily 

His  misty  German  brain, 
That,  by  jumping  in  another  bush, 

He  got  them  back  again. 

So  he  called  it  "  homo-hop-athy  "  • 

And  soon  it  came  about, 
That  a  curious  crowd  among  the  thorns 

Was  hopping  in  and  out. 
Yet,  disguise  it  by  the  longest  name 

They  may,  it  is  no  use  ; 
For  the  world  knows  the  discovery 

Was  made  by  Mother  Goose ! 

And  not  alone  in  medicine 

Doth  the  theory  hold  good: 
In  Life  and  in  Philosophy, 

The  maxim  still  hath  stood : 


32  "SIMILIA    SIMILIBUS." 

A  morsel  more  of  anything, 
"When  one  has  got  enough, 

And  Nature's  energy  disowns 
The  whole  unkindly  stuff. 

A  second  negative  affirms ; 

And  two  magnetic  poles 
Of  charge  identical,  repel, — 

As  sameness  sunders  souls. 
Touched  with  a  first,  fresh  suffering, 

All  solace  is  despised ; 
But  gathered  sorrows  grow  serene, 

And  grief  is  neutralized. 

And  he  who,  in  the  world's  melee, 
Hath  chanced  the  worse  to  catch, 

May  mend  the  matter,  if  he  come 
Back,  boldly,  to  the  scratch ; 


"SIMILU    SIMILIBUS."  33 

Minding  the  lesson  lie  received 
In  boyhood,  from  his  mother, 

Whose  cheery  word,  for  many  a  bump, 
Was,  Up  and  take  another ! 


HOBBY-HORSES. 


"  I  had  a  little  pony, 

His  name  was  Dapple  Graj: 
I  lent  him  to  a  lady 

To  ride  a  mile  away. 
She  whipped  him, 

She  lashed  him, 

She  rode  him  through  the  mire ; 
I  would  n't  lend  my  pony  now, 
For  all  the  lady's  hire." 

OUR  hobbies,  of  whatever  sort 
They  be,  mine  honest  friend, 

Of  fancy,  enterprise,  or  thought, 
'T  is  hardly  wise  to  lend. 


HOBBY-HORSES.  35 

Some  fair  imagination,  shrined 

In  form  poetic,  maybe, 
You  fondly  trusted  to  the  World, — 

That  most  capricious  Lady. 

Or  a  high,  romantic  theory, 

Magnificently  planned, 
In  flush  of  eager  confidence 

You  bade  her  take  in  hand. 

But  she  whipped  it,  and  she  lashed  it, 
And  bespattered  it  with  mire, 

Till  your  very  soul  felt  stained  within, 
And  scourged  with  stripes  of  fire. 

Yet  take  this  thought,  and  hold  it  fast, 

Ye  Martyrs  of  To-day » 
That  same  great  World,  with  all  its  scorn, 

You  're  lifted  on  its  way ! 


MISSIONS. 


•*  Hogs  in  the  garden, — 
Catch  'em,  Towser ! 
Cows  in  the  cornfield, — 

Run,  boys,  run ! 
Fire  on  the  mountains, — 

Run,  boys,  run  boys ! 
Cats  in  the  cream-pot, — 
Run,  girls,  run!" 

I  DON'T  stand  up  for  Woman's  Right ; 

Not  I, — no,  no  ! 
The  real  lionesses  fight, — 

I  let  it  go. 


MISSIONS.  37 

Yet,  somehow,  as  I  catch  the  call 

Of  the  world's  voice, 
That  speaks  a  summons  unto  all 

Its  girls  and  boys ; 

In  such  strange  contrast  still  it  rings 

As  church-bells'  borne 
To  the  pert  sound  of  tinkling  things 

One  hears  at  home ; 
And  wakes  an  impulse,  not  germane 

Perhaps,  to  woman, 
Yet  with  a  thrill  that  makes  it  plain 

'T  is  truly  human ;  — 

A  sudden  tingle  at  the  springs 

Of  noble  feeling, 
The  spirit-power  for  valiant  things 

Clearly  revealing. 


38  MISSIONS. 

But  Eden's  curse  doth,  daily  deal 

Its  certain  dole, — 
And  the  old  grasp  upon  the  heel 

Holds  back  the  soul ! 

So,  when  some  rousing  deed 's  to  do, 

To  save  a  nation, 
Or,  on  the  mountains,  to  subdue 

A  conflagration, 
Woman !  the  work  is  not  for  you ; 

Mind  your  vocation ! 
Out  from  the  cream-pot  comes  a  mew 

Of  tribulation! 

Meekly  the  world's  great  exploits  leave 

Unto  your  betters ; 
So  bear  the  punishment  of  Eve, 

Spirit  in  fetters ! 


MISSIONS.  39 

Only,  the  hidden  fires  will  glow, 

And,  now  and  then, 
A  beacon  blazeth  out  below 

That  startles  men ! 

Some  Joan,  through  battle-field  to  stake, 

Danger  embracing; 
Some  Florence,  for  sweet  mercy's  sake 

Pestilence  facing; 
Whose  holy  valor  vindicates 

The  royal  birth 
That,  for  its  crowning,  only  waits 

The  end  of  earth; 
And,  haply,  when  we  all  stand  freed, 

In  strength  immortal, 
Such  virgin-lamps  the  host  shall  lead 

Through  heaven's  portal ! 


GOING  BACK  TO  OUE  MUTTONS. 


u  There  was  an  old  man  of  Tobago, 
Who  lived  on  rice,  gruel,  and  sago, 

Till,  much  to  his  bliss, 

His  physician  said  this : 
To  a  leg,  sir,  of  mutton,  you  may  go. 
He  set  a  monkey  to  baste  the  mutton, 
And  ten  pounds  of  butter  he  put  on." 

"  CHAIN  tip  a  child,  and  away  he  will  go  " ; 

I  have  heard  of  the  proverb  interpreted  so; 

The  spendthrift  is  son  to  the  miser,  —  and 
still, 

When  the  Devil  would  work  his  most  piti 
less  will, 


GOING    BACK    TO    OUR    MUTTONS.  41 

He  sends  forth  the  seven,  for  such  embas 
sies  kept, 

To  the  house  that  is  empty  and  garnished 
and  swept: 

For  poor  human  nature  a  pendulum  seems, 

That  must  constantly  vibrate  between  two 
extremes. 

The    closer   the    arrow   is    drawn    to    the 

bow, 
Once  slipped  from  the  string,  all  the  further 

't  will  go : 

Let  a  panic  arise  in  the  world  of  finance, 
And  the  mad  flight  of  Fashion  be  checked 

by  the  chance, 

It  certainly  seems  a  most  wonderful  thing, 
When  the  ropes  are  let  go  again,  how  it 

will  swing ! 


42  GOING   BACK   TO    OUR   MUTTONS. 

And  even  the  decent  observance  of  Lent, 
Stirs  sometimes  a  doubt  how  the  time  has 

been  spent, 
When  Easter  brings  out  the  new  bonnets 

and  gowns, 
And  a  flood  of  gay  colors  overflows  in  the 

towns. 

So  in  all  things  the  feast  doth  still  follow 

the  fast, 
And  the  force  of  the  contrast  gives  zest  to 

the  last; 
And  until  he  is  tried,  no  frail  mortal  can 

tell, 
The  inch  being  offered,  he  won't  take  the 

ell.      I 
We  are  righteously  shocked  at  the  follies 

of  fashion; 


GOING    BACK    TO    OUR   MUTTONS.  43 

Nay,  standing  outside,  may  get  quite  in  a 

passion 
At  the  prodigal  flourishes  other  folks  put 

on: 

But  many  good  people  this  side  of  Tobago, 
If  respited  once  from  their  diet  of  sago, 
Would  outdo  the  monkey  in  basting  the 
mutton ! 


GOING  TO  DOVER. 


"  Leg  over  leg 

As  the  dog  went  to  Dover ; 
When  he  came  to  a  stile, 
Jump  he  went  over." 

PERHAPS  you  would  n't  see  it  here, 
But,  to  my  fancy,  't  is  quite  clear 
That  Mother  Goose  just  meant  to  show 
How  the  dog  Patience  on  doth  go : 
With  steadfast  nozzle,  pointing  low, — 
Leg  over  leg,  however  slow,  — 
And  labored  breath,  but  naught  complaining, 
Still,  at  each  footstep,  somewhat  gaining, — 


GOING  TO  DOVER. 

Quietly  plodding,  mile  on  mile, 

And  gathering  for  a  nervous  bound 

At  every  interposing  stile, — 

So  traversing  the  tedious  ground, 

Till  all,  tit  length,  he  measures  over, 

And  walks,  a  victor,  into  Dover. 

And,  verily,  no  other  way 
Doth  human  progress  win  the  day ; 
Step  after  step, — and  o'er  and  o'er, — 
Each  seeming  like  the  one  before, 
So  that 't  is  only  once  a  while, — 
When  sudden  Genius  springs  the  stile 
That  marks  a  section  of  the  plain, 
Beyond  whose  bound  fresli  fields  again 
Their  widening  stretch  untrodden  sweep, 
The  world  looks  round  to  see  the  leap. 


46  GOING    TO    DOVER. 

Pale  Science,  in  her  laboratory, 
Works  on  with  crucible  and  wire 

Unnoticed,  till  an  instant  glory 

Crowns  some  high  issue,  as  with  fire, 

And  men,  with  wondering  eyes  awide, 

Gauge  great  Invention's  giant  stride. 

No  age,  no  race,  no  single  soul, 
By  lofty  tumbling  gains  the  goal. 
The  steady  pace  it  keeps  between, — 
The  little  points  it  makes  unseen,  — 
By  these,  achieved  in  gathering  might, 
It  moveth  on,  and  out  of  sight, 
And  wins,  through  all  that 's  overpast, 
The  city  of  its  hopes  at  last. 


RAGS    AND    ROBES, 


«  Hark,  hark ! 

The  dogs  do  bark  ; 
Beggars  are  coming  to  town : 

Some  in  rags, 

Some  in  tags, 
And  some  in  velvet  gowns  I  * 

COMING,  coming  always ! 
Crowding  into  earth ; 
Seizing  on  this  human  life, 
Beggars  from  the  birth. 


48  BAGS  AND   ROBES. 

Some  in  patent  penury ; 

Some,  alas !  in  shame ; 
And  some  in  fading  velvet 

Of  hereditary  fame ; 

But  all  in  deep,  appeaseless  want, 

As  mendicants  to  live ; 
And  go  beseeching  through  the  world, 

For  what  the  world  may  give. 

Beggars,  beggars,  all  of  us ! 

Expectants  from  our  youth : 
With  hands  outstretched,  and  asking  alms 
Of  Hope  and  Love  and  Truth. 

Nor,  verily,  doth  he  escape 
Who,  wrapt  in  cold  contempt, 

Denies  alike  to  giv^  or  take, 
And  dreams  himself  exempt; 


RAGS   AND    ROBES.  49 

Who  never,  in  appeal  to  man, 

Nor  in  a  prayer  to  Heaven, 
Will  own  that  aught  he  doth  desire, 

Or  ask  that  aught  be  given. 

Whose  human  heart  a  stoic  pride 

Folds  as  a  velvet  pall ; 
Yet  hides  a  meagreness  within, 

Worse  beggary  than  all ! 


Coming,  coming  always ! 

And  the  bluff  Apostle  waits 
As  the  throng  pours  upward  from  the  earth 
To  Heaven's  eternal  gates. 

In  shreds  of  torn  affection, 
In  passion-rended  rags; 


50  RAGS   AND    ROBES. 

While  scarcely  at  the  portal 

The  great  procession  flags ; 

For  the  pillared  doors  of  glory 
On  their  hinges  hang  awide ; 

Where  each  asking  soul  may  enter, 
And  at  last  be  satisfied ! 

But  a  cold,  calm  shade  arriveth, 
In  self-complacent  trim, — 

And  Peter  riseth  up  to  see 
Especially  to  him. 

"  Good  morrow,  saint !  I  'm  going  in 
To  take  a  stroll,  you  know ; 

Not  that  I  want  for  anything, — 
But  just  to  see  the  show ! " 

"  Hold  !  "  thunders  out  the  warden, 
"  Be  pleased  to  pause  a  bit ! 


RAGS   AND    ROBES.  51 

For  seats  celestial,  let  me  say, 

You  're  not  apparelled  fit : 
Yonder  's  the  brazen  door  that  leads 

Spectators  to  the  pit ! 

Whatever  may  be  thought  on  earth, 
We  've  other  rules  in  heaven ; 

And  only  poverty  confessed 
Finds  free  admittance  given ! " 


BLACKBIRDS. 


"  Sing  a  song  o'  sixpence,  a  pocket  full  of  rye  ; 
Four  and  twenty  blackbirds  baked  in  a  pie : 
When  the  pie  was  opened,  they  all  began  to  sing, 
And  was  n't  this  a  dainty  dish  to  set  before  the  king  ? 
The  king  was  in  his  counting-house,  counting  out  his 

money ; 

The  queen  was  in  the  parlor,  eating  bread  and  honey ; 
The  maid  was  in  the  garden,  hanging  out  the  clothes, 
And  along  came  a  blackbird,  and  nipt  off  her  nose  ! " 

IT  does  n't  take  a  conjurer  to  see 
The  sort  of  curious  pasty  this  might  be ; 
A  flock  of  flying  rumors,  caught  alive, 
And  housed,  like  swarming  bees  within  a 
hive,  — 


BLACKBIRDS.  53 

Instead   of   what   were    far    more    wisely 

done, 
Having  their  worthless  necks  wrung,  every 

one ; — 
And  so  a  dish  of  dainty  gossip  making, 

Smooth  covered  with  a  show  of  secrecy, 
That  one  but  takes  the  pleasant  pains  of 

breaking, 
And  out  the  wide-mouthed  knaves  pop, 

eagerly. 

Blackbirds,  indeed!      Each  chattering    on- 

dit 
Comes  forth,  full  feathered,  black  as  black 

can  be ; 
With  quivering  throats,  all   tremulous  to 

sing, 
And    please,   forsooth,    some    little    social 

king; 


54  BLACKBIRDS. 

Whose  reign  may  last  as  long  as  he  is  able 
To  call  his  court  around  a  dinner-table. 

But,  mark  the  sequel !     When  the  laugh  is 

over, 

Think  not  to  get  the  varlets  under  cover : 
The  crust  once  broken,  you  may  seek  in  vain 
To  catch  the  birds,  or  coax  them  in  again ; 
Mrs.  Pandora's  famous  box,  I  wis, 
Was  nothing  worse  than  such  a  pie  as  this : 
And    so,  some   pleasant  morning,  —  when, 

down  town, 

The  king  is  busy  with  his  bags  of  money, 
Leaving  at  home  the  queenly  Mrs.  Brown 
Safe  at  her  breakfast  of  fair  bread  and 

honey,  — 
Some    quiet,    harmless    soul,    who    never 

knows 
Of  any  matters,  save  the  plain  pursuing 


BLACKBIRDS.  55 

Her   daily   round,  —  the   hanging    out    of 

clothes 

Or  other  lawful  work  she  may  be  doing, — 
Finds,  by  the  sudden  nipping  of  her  nose, 
What  sort  of  mischief  is  about  her  brew 
ing  ! 

Not  that,  indeed,  there 's  anything  to  hinder 
The  thieves  from  flying  though  the  parlor 

window ; 

For  never  yet  could  sentinel  or  warden 
Keep  scandals  wholly  to  the  kitchen  gar 
den. 

When,  therefore,  as  not  seldom  it  may  be, 
Even  in  the  soberest  community, 
Strange  revelations  somehow  get  about,  — 
Like  a  mysterious  cholera  breaking  out 


56 


BLACKBIRDS. 


Sudden,  as  Egypt's  blains  'neath  Aaron's  rod, 
Contagious  by  a  whisper  or  a  nod, — 
When  daily  papers  teem  with  many  a  hint 
That  daubs  them  darker  even   than  their 

print ; 
When   it  would  seem,  in   short,  the  very 

D 

Had  let  his  little  imps  out  on  a  spree ; 
Conclude,  beyond  a  reasonable  doubt, 
Although,  perhaps,  you  fail  to  trace  it  out, 
Such  plagues  spring  not  unbidden  from  the 

ground, 
And,  if  the  thing  were  sifted,  't  would  be 

found 

Somebody  's  sown  a  pocket  full  of  rye, 
Or  been  regaling  on  a  blackbird  pie ! 


BANBUEY    CEOSS. 


"  Ride  a  fine  horse 

To  Banbury  Cross, 
To  see  a  young  woman 

Jump  on  a  white  horse. 
Rings  on  her  fingers, 

And  bells  on  her  toes, 
And  she  shall  have  music 

Wherever  she  goes.*' 

PROPHETIC  Dame  !     What  hadst  thou  in  thy 

view  ? 
A  modern  wedding  in  Fifth  Avenue  ? 


58  BANBURY    CROSS. 

Where,  —  like   the   goddess   of  a   heathen 

shrine, 
With  offerings  heaped  in  such  a  glittering 

show 

As  must  have  emptied  a  Peruvian  mine, 
And  would  suggest,  but  that  we  better 

know, 
Marriage  must  be  a  bitter  thing  indeed, 

And,  like  the  Prophet  of  the  Eastern  tale, 
Must  wear  a  very  ugly  face,  to  need 

Such    careful    shrouding    in    the    silver 

veil,  — 

Her  bridal  pomp,  as  a  white  palfrey,  mount 
ing? 

Caparisoned  at  cost  beyond  all  counting, 
With    diamond-jewelled    fingers,   and    the 

toes 
Ditto,  for  all  that  anybody  knows, 


BANBURY    CROSS. 


59 


The  smiling  damsel  goeth  to  the  Banns  ? 

(Why  add   the   "bury,"  or   suggest  the 

"  cross," 
As  if  such  brilliant  ringing  of  the  hands 

Preluded  aught  of  trial  or  of  loss  ?) 

Shall    not   Life's   golden   bells   still   tinkle 

sweet, 

And  merry  music  make  about  her  feet  ? 
Shall  not  the  silver  sheen  around  her  spread, 
A  lasting  light  along  her  pathway  shed  ? 

No  mocking  satire,  surely,  hides  a  sting, 

Nor  bitter  irony  a  truth  foreshows, 
In  the  gay  chant   the  cheery  dame  doth 

sing,  — 

"She  shall  have  music  wheresoe'er  she 
goes " ? 


60  B ANBURY    CROSS. 

She  shall  have  music  !     Shall  she  sit  apart, 
And   let   the   folly-chimes   outvoice   the 

tone 
That   comes   up   wailing   to   the   listening 

heart, 
From    the    great   world,   where   misery 

maketh  moan  ? 

Ah,  Mother  Goose !  if  such  the  tale  it  tells, 
Sing  us  no  more  your  rhyme  of  rings  and 

bells! 

But  may  not  —  't  were  a  rare   device  in 
deed  !  — 

The  wondrous  oracle  in  both  ways  read  ? 
And  call  up,  as  a  fair  beatitude, 
The  gracious  vision  of  true  womanhood, 
That  with  pure  purpose,  and  a  gentle  might, 
Upheld  and  borne,  as  by  the  steed  of  white, 


BANBURY   CROSS.  Cl 

Pledged  with  her  golden  ring,  goes  nobly 

forth 

To  trace  her  path  of  joy  along  the  earth,  — 
And,  as  she  moves,  makes  music,  silver-shod 
"  With  preparation  of  the  peace  "  of  God, 
That  holds  the  key-note  of  celestial  cheer, 
And  hangs  heaven's  echoes  round  her  foot 
steps  here  ? 


THE    MAD    HORSE. 


"  There  was  a  mad  man, 

And  he  had  a  mad  wife, 

And  the  children  were  mad  beside ; 
So  on  a  mad  horse 
They  all  of  them  got, 

And  madly  away  did  ride." 

SAGACIOUS  Goose  !     Fresh  wonders  yet ! 
What  spell  had  power  to  help  you  get 
Those  seven-leagued  spectacles,  that  see 
Down  to  the  nineteenth  century  ? 

"  The  mad  world,  and  his  madder  wife ! " 
That,  in  your  earlier  time  of  life, — 


THE    MAD    HORSK.  63 

Though  quite  demented  now,  'tis  plain,— - 
Were  sober,  grave,  and  almost  sane ! 

And  all  the  tribes,  a  motley  brood 
Sprung  into  being  since  the  flood, 
With  their  hereditary  bent 
To  cerebral  bewilderment ! 

If  some  old  ghost,  precise  and  slow, 
Who  died  a  hundred  years  ago, — 
Always  supposing  he  himself 
Has  lain,  meanwhile,  upon  the  shelij  — 

Tilings  as  they  are  might  only  see, 
Surely  his  inference  would  be 
A  simultaneous  bursting  out 
Of  lunacy  the  earth  about. 


64  THE  MAD   HORSE. 

".  The  world  is  mad ;  his  wife  is  mad ; 

The  rising  generation 's  madder  "  ; 
And  when  a  charter  can  be  had, 

Up  to  the  moon  they  '11  build  a  ladder ! 

They  caught  a  horse  awhile  ago,  — 
They  called  him  Steam,  —  but  he  was  slow ; 
After  the  lightning  then  they  ran, 
Caught    him,  —  and   now   they   drive   the 
span! 


THE  BIG  SHOE. 


"  There  was  an  old  woman 

Who  lived  in  a  shoe ; 
She  had  so  many  children 

She  did  n't  know  what  to  do: 
To  some  she  gave  broth, 

And  to  some  she  gave  bread, 
And  some  she  whipped  soundly, 

And  sent  them  to  bed." 

Do  you  find  out  the  likeness  ? 

A  portly  old  Dame, — 
The  mother  of  millions, — 

Britannia  by  name : 


THE   BIG   SHOE. 

And  —  howe'er  it  may  strike  you 

In  reading  the  song  — 
Not  stinted  in  space 

For  bestowing  the  throng ; 
Since  the  Sun  can  himself 

Hardly  manage  to  go, 
In  a  day  and  a  night, 

From  the  heel  to  the  toe. 

On  the  arch  of  the  instep 

She  builds  up  her  throne, 
And,  with  seas  rolling  under, 

She  sits  there  alone ; 
With  her  heel  at  the  foot 

Of  the  Himmalehs  planted, 
And  her  toe  in  the  icebergs, 

Unchilled  and  undaunted. 


THE    BIG    SHOE.  67 

Yet  though  justly  of  all 

Her  fine  family  proud, 
'T  is  no  light  undertaking 

To  rule  such  a  crowd ; 
Not  to  mention  the  trouble 

Of  seeing  them  fed, 
And  dispensing  with  justice 

The  broth  and  the  bread. 
Some  will  seize  upon  one, — 

Some  are  left  with  the  other, — 
And  so  the  whole  household 

Gets  into  a  pother. 
But  the  rigid  old  Dame 

Has  a  summary  way 
Of  her  own,  when  she  finds 

There  is  mischief  to  pay. 
She  just  takes  up  the  rod, 

As  she  lays  down  the  spoon, 


THE   BIG    SHOE. 

And  makes  their  rebellious  backs 

Tingle  right  soon : 
Then  she  bids  them,  while  yet 

The  sore  smarting  they  feel, 
To  lie  down,  and  go  to  sleep, 

Under  her  heel ! 

Only  once  was  she  posed, — 

When  the  little  boy  Sam, 
Who  had  always  before 

Been  as  meek  as  a  lamb, 
Refused  to  take  tea, 

As  his  mother  had  bid, 
And  returned  saucy  answers 

Because  he  was  chid. 

Not  content  even  then, 

He  cut  loose  from  the  throne, 


THE   BIG    SHOE.  69 

And  set  about  making 

A  shoe  of  his  own ; 
Which  succeeded  so  well, 

And  wras  filled  up  so  fast, 
That  the  world,  in  amazement, 

Confessed,  at  the  last, — 
Looking  on  at  the  work 

With  a  gasp  and  a  stare, — 
That  't  was  hard  to  tell  wrhich 

Would  be  best  of  the  pair. 

Side  by  side  they  are  standing 

Together  to-day ; 
Side  by  side  may  they  keep 

Their  strong  foothold  for  aye : 
And  beneath  the  broad  sea, 

Whose  blue  depths  intervene, 
May  the  finishing  string 

Lie  unbroken  between ! 


VICTUALS    AND    DRINK. 


"  There  once  was  a  woman, 

And  what  do  you  think  ? 
She  lived  upon  nothing 

But  victuals  and  drink. 
Victuals  and  drink 

Were  the  chief  of  her  diet, 
And  yet  this  poor  woman 

Scarce  ever  was  quiet.*' 

AND  were  you  so  foolish 

As  really  to  think 
That  all  she  could  want 

Was  her  victuals  and  drink  ? 


VICTUALS    AND    DRINK.  71 

And  that  while  she  was  furnished 

With  that  sort  of  diet, 
Her  feeling  and  fancy 

Would  starve,  and  be  quiet  ? 

Mother  Goose  knew  far  better; 

But  thought  it  sufficient 
To  give  a  mere  hint 

That  the  fare  was  deficient ; 
For  I  do  not  believe 

She  could  ever  have  meant 
To  imply  there  was  reason 

For  being  content. 

Yet  the  mass  of  mankind 

Is  uncommonly  slow 
To  acknowledge  the  fact 

It  behooves  them  to  know ; 


72  VICTUALS  AND   DRINK. 

Or  to  learn  that  a  woman 

Is  not  like  a  mouse, 
Needing  nothing  but  cheese, 

And  the  walls  of  a  house. 

But  just  take  a  man,  — 

Shut  him  up  for  a  day ; 
Get  his  hat  and  his  cane,  — 

Put  them  snugly  away  ; 
Give  him  stockings  to  mend, 

And  three  sumptuous  meals;  — 
And  then  ask  him,  at  night, 

If  you  dare,  how  he  feels ! 
Do  you  think  he  will  quietly 

Stick  to  the  stocking, 
While  you  read  the  news, 

And  "  don't  care  about  talking  "  ? 


VICTUALS   AND    DRINK.  73 

O,  many  a  woman 

Goes  starving,  I  ween, 
AVho  lives  in  a  palace, 

And  fares  like  a  queen ; 
Till  the  famishing  heart, 

And  the  feverish  brain, 
Have  spelled  out  to  life's  end 

The  long  lesson  of  pain. 

Yet,  stay !     To  my  mind 

An  uneasy  suggestion 
Comes  up,  that  there  may  be 

Two  sides  to  the  question. 
That,  while  here  and  there  proving 

Inflicted  privation, 
The  verdict  must  often  be 

"  Wilful  starvation." 


Of  T<wir  fife 


- .  L.-.L.  :  --   .-.;•' 


VICTUALS    AND    DRINK. 


And  't  is  he  to  whose  lips 
But  earth's  ashes  are  given, 

For  whom  the  full  banquet 
Is  gathered  in  heaven ! 


COBWEBS   AND    BROOMS. 


"  There  was  an  old  woman 

Tossed  up  in  a  blanket, 
Seventeen  times  as  high  as  the  moon ; 

What  she  did  there 

I  cannot  tell  you, 
But  in  her  hand  she  carried  a  broom. 

Old  woman,  old  woman, 

Old  woman,  said  I, 
O  whither,  O  whither,  O  whither  so  high? 

To  sweep  the  cobwebs 

Off  the  sky, 
And  I  '11  be  back  again,  by  and  by." 

MIND  you,  she  wore  no  ivings, 
That  she  might  truly  soar ;  no  time  was  lost 


COS  WEDS    AXI>    BROOMS.  77 

In  growing  such  unnecessary  things; 
But  blindly,  in  a  blanket,  she  was  tost  I 


Spasmodically,  too ! 
'Twas  not  enough  that  she  should  reach 

the  moon ; 
But  seventeen  times  the  distance  she  must 

do, 

Lest,    peradventure,    she    get    back    too 
soon. 


That  emblematic  broom ! 
Besom  of  mad  Reform,  uplifted  high, 
That,  to  reach  cobwebs,  would  precipitate 

doom, 

And  sweep  down  thunderbolts  from  out 
the  sky! 


78  COBWEBS    AND    BROOMS. 

Doubtless,  no  rubbish  lay 
About  her  door,  —  no  work  was  there  to 

do,—  - 

That  through  the  astonished  aisles  of  Night 

and  Day, 

She  took  her  valorous  flight  in  quest  of 
new! 

Lo  !  at  her  little  broom 
The  great  stars  laugh,  as  on  their  wheels 

of  fire 

They  go,  dispersing  the  eternal  gloom, 
And   shake    Time's   dust   from  off  each 
blazing  tire ! 


BLACK    SPIDERS. 


"  Little  Miss  Muffet 
Sat  on  a  tuffet, 
Eating  curds  and  whey : 

There  came  a  black  spider, 
And  sat  down  beside  her, 
And  frightened  Miss  Muffet  away." 

To  all  mortal  blisses, 

From  comfits  to  kisses, 
There  's  sure  to  be  something  by  way  of 
alloy ; 

Each  new  expectation 

Brings  fresh  aggravation, 
And  a  doubtful  amalgam's  the  best  of  our 


80  BLACK    SPIDERS. 

You  may  sit  on  your  tuffet ; 
Yes,  —  cushion  and  stuff  it ; 
And  provide  what  you  please,  if  you  don't 

fancy  whey; 

But  before  you  can  eat  it, 
There'll  be  —  I  repeat  it  — 
Some  sort  of  black  spider  to  come  in  the 
way. 


DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY. 


"  Daffy-down-dilly 

Is  new  come  to  town, 
"With  a  petticoat  green, 

And  a  bright  yellow  gown, 
And  her  little  white  blossoms 

Are  peeping  around." 

Now  don't  you  call  this 
A  most  exquisite  thing  ? 

Don't  it  give  you  a  thrill 
With  the  thought  of  the  spring, 

Such  as  once,  in  your  childhood, 
You  felt,  when  you  found 

6 


82  DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY. 

The  first  yellow  buttercups 
Spangling  the  ground  ? 

When  the  lilac  was  fresh 

With  its  glory  of  leaves, 
And  the  swallows  came  fluttering 

Under  the  eaves  ? 
When  the  bluebird  flashed  by 

Like  a  magical  thing, 
And  you  looked  for  a  fairy 

Astride  of  his  wing  ? 

When  the  clear,  running  water, 

Like  tinkling  of  bells, 
Bore  along  the  bare  roadside 

A  song  of  the  dells, — 
And  the  mornings  were  fresh 

With  unfailing  delight, 


DAFFV-DOWN-D1LLV.  83 

While  the  sweet  summer  hush 
Always  came  with  the  night  ? 

0  daffy-down-dilly, 

With  robings  of  gold  ! 
As  our  hearts  every  year 

To  your  coming  unfold, 
And  sweet  memories  stir 

Through  the  hardening  mould, 
We  feel  how  earth's  blossomings 

Surely  are  given 
To  keep  the  soul  fresh 

For  the  spring-time  of  heaven ! 


BAA,  BAA,  BLACK  S] 


"  Baa,  baa,  black  sheep  I 

Have  you  any  wool? 
Yes,  sir,  —  no,  sir,  — 

Three  bags  full. 
One  for  my  master, 

One  for  my  dame, 
And  one  for  the  little  boy 

That  lives  in  the  lane." 

JT  is  the  same  question  as  of  old  5 
And  still  the  doubter  saith, 

"  Can  any  good  be  made  to  come 
From  out  of  Nazareth  ?  " 


BAA,    BAA,   BLACK    SHEEP  !  85 

No  sheep  so  black  in  all  the  flock, — 

No  human  heart  so  bare, — 
But  hath  some  warm  and  generous  stock 

Of  kindliness  to  share. 

It  may  be  treasured  secretly 
For  dear  ones  at  the  hearth ; 

Or  be  bestowed  by  stealth  along 
The  by-ways  of  the  earth ;  — 

And  though  no  searching  eye  may  see, 

Nor  busy  tongue  may  tell, 
Perchance,  where  largest  love  is  laid, 

The  Master  knoweth  well ! 


THE    TWISTER. 


"  A  twister,  in  twisting,  would  twist  him  a  twist, 
And,  twisting  his  twists,  seven  twists  he  doth  twist  $ 
If  one  twist,  in  twisting,  untwist  from  the  twist, 
The  twist,  untwisting,  untwists  the  twist." 

A  RAVELLED  rainbow  overhead 
Lets  down  to  life  its  varying  thread : 
Love's   blue,  —  Joy's  gold,  —  and,  fair   be 
tween, 

Hope's  shifting  light  of  emerald  green ; 
With,  either  side,  in  deep  relief, 
A  crimson  Pain,  —  a  violet  Grief. 


THE   TWISTER.  8' 

Wouldst  thou,  amid  their  gleaming  hues, 
Clutch  after  those,  and  these  refuse  ? 
Believe,  —  as  thy  beseeching  eyes 
Follow  their  lines,  and  sound  the  skies, — 
There,  where  the  fadeless  glories  shine, 
An  unseen  angel  twists  the  twine. 

And  be  thou  sure,  what  tint  soe'er 
The  broken  rays  beneath  may  wear, 
It  needs  them  all,  that,  broad  and  white, 
God's  love  may  weave  the  perfect  light ! 


FANTASY. 


u  I  have  a  little  sister, 

They  call  her  peep,  peep ; 
She  wades  through  the  water, 

Deep,  deep,  deep ; 
She  climbs  up  the  mountains, 

High,  high,  high; 
My  poor  little  sister, 

She  has  but  one  eye  ! " 

ROUGH  Common  Sense  doth  here  confess 
Her  kinship  to  Imagination ; 

Betraying  also,  I  should  guess, 
Some  little  pride  in  the  relation. 


FANTASY.  89 

For  even  while  vexed,  and  puzzled  too, 
By  the  vagaries  of  the  latter,  — 

Fearful  what  next  the  child  may  do,  — 
She  looks  with  loving  wonder  at  her. 

Plain  Sense  keeps  ever  to  the  road 
That 's  beaten  down  and  daily  trod ; 
While  Fancy  fords  the  rivers  wide, 
And  scrambles  up  the  mountain-side: 
By  which  exploits  she  's  always  getting 
Either  a  tumble  or  a  wetting. 

While  simple  Sense  looks  straight  before, 
Fancy  "  peeps  "  further,  and  sees  more  ; 
And  yet,  if  left  to  walk  alone, 

May  chance,  like  most  long-sighted  people, 
To  trip  her  foot  against  a  stone 

While  gazing  at  a  distant  steeple. 


90  FANTASY. 

Nay,  worse  !  with  all  her  grace  erratic, 

And  feats  aerial  and  aquatic, 

Her  flights  sublime,  and  moods  ecstatic, 

She  of  the  vision  wild  and  high 

Hath  but  a  solitary  eye  ! 

And,  —  not  to  quote  the  Scripture,  which 

Forebodes  the  falling  in  the  ditch,  — 

Doubtless  by  following  such  a  guide 

Blindly,  in  all  her  wanderings  wide, 

The  world,  at  best,  would  get  o'  one  side. 

What  then  ?     To  rid  us  of  our  doubt 
Is  there  no  other  thing  to  do 

But  we  must  turn  poor  Fancy  out, 
And  only  downright  Fact  pursue  ? 

Ah,  see  you  not,  bewildered  man ! 
The  heavenly  beauty  of  the  plan  ? 


FANTASY.  91 

'T  was  so  ordained,  in  counsels  high, 

To  give  to  sweet  Imagination 
A  single  deep  and  glorious  eye ; 

But  then  't  was  meant,  in  compensation, 
That  Common  Sense,  with  optics  keen,  — 
As  maid  of  honor  to  a  queen, — 
On  her  blind  side  should  always  stay, 
And  keep  her  in  the  middle  way. 


JINGLING  AND  JANGLING. 


"  Little  Jack  Jingle 
Used  to  live  single. 
But  when  he  got  tired 

Of  that  kind  of  life, 
He  left  off  being  single, 

And  lived  with  his  wife." 

YOUR  period 's  pointed,  most  excellent  Moth 
er ! 

Pray  what  did  he  do  when  he  tired  of  the 
other? 

For  a  man  so  deplorably  prone  to  ennui 

But  a  queer  sort  of  husband  is  likely  to  be. 


JINGLING   AND    JANGLING.  93 

The  fatigue  might  recur,  —  and,  in  case  it 

should  be  so, 

Why  not  take  a  wife  on  a  limited  lease,  O  ? 
Grant  the  privilege,  pray,  to  his  idiosyn 
crasy,  — 
Some  natures  won't  bear  to  be  too  closely 

pinned,  you  see,  — 
And,  at  worst,  the    poor   Benedict   might 

advertise, 
When  weary,  at  length,  of  the  light  of  his 

eyes,— 

Or  failing  to  find  her,  it  may  be,  in  salt,  — 
"Disposed   of,   indeed,   for   no   manner   of 

fault," 
(To   borrow  a  figure   of  speech  from   the 

mart,) 
"  But  because  the  late  owner  has  taken  a 

start!" 


94  JINGLING   AND    JANGLING. 

I  believe  once  before  you  have  cautiously 

said 
Something  quite  as  concise  on  this  delicate 

head, 
When  distantly  hinting    at   "needles    and 

pins," 
And  that  "  when  a  man  marries,  his  trouble 

begins  " ; 

But  I  don't  recollect  that  you  ever  pretend 
To  prophesy  anything  as  to  the  end. 

Unless   we   may   learn   it   of  Peter,  —  the 

bumpkin, 
Kenowned  for  naught  else  but  his  eating 

of  pumpkin ; 
Whose  wife  —  I  don't  see  how  he  happened 

to  get  her  — 
Had   a  taste,  very  likely,  for  things   that 

were  better: 


JINGLING    AND    JANGLING.  95 

Since,  fearing  to  lose  her,  at  last  it  be 
fell 

He  bethought  him  of  shutting  her  up  in  a 
shell ; 

By  which  brilliant  contrivance  she  kept  very 
well ! 

What  he  did  with  her  next,  the  tradition 
don't  say, 

But  she  seems  to  be  somehow  got  out  of 
the  way, 

For  the  ill-fated  Peter  was  wedded  once 
more, 

To  find  his  bewilderment  worse  than  be 
fore; 

If  the  first  for  her  spouse  had  but  small 
predilection, 

Now  't  was  his  turn,  alas !  to  fall  short  in 
affection. 


96  JINGLING    AND    JANGLING. 

And  how  do  you  think  that  he  conquered 
the  evil  ? 

Why,  simply  by  lifting  himself  to  her  level; 

By  leaving  his  pumpkins,  and  learning  to 
spell, 

He  came,  saith  the  story,  to  love  her  right 
well; 

And  the  mythical  memoir  its  moral  con 
trives 

For  the  lasting  instruction  of  husbands 
and  wives. 


THE  OLD   WOMAN  OF  SURREY. 


"  There  was  an  old  woman  in  Surrey, 
Who  was  morn,  noon,  and  night  in  a  hurry ; 

Called  her  husband  a  fool, 

Drove  the  children  to  school, 
The  worrying  old  woman  of  Surrey." 

'T  WAS  an  ancient  earldom  over  the  sea, 

And  it  must  be  now  as  it  used  to  be ; 

Yet  the  sketch  is  of  one  1  have  known 

before,  — 
The  very  old  woman  that  lives  next  door. 

7 


98  THE   OLD   WOMAN   OF   SURREY. 

One      thing     is     unquestionable,  —  she  's 

"  smart/'  — 

As  they  say  of  an  apple  that 's  rather  tart ; 
For    her   nearest   friends,    I    think,   would 

allow  her 
To  be,  at  her  best,  but  a  "  pleasant  sour." 

There  's  a  certain  electrical  atmosphere 
That  you  feel  beforehand,  when  she  's  near : 
And  —  unless  you  've  a  wonderful  deal  of 

pluck  — 
A    shrinking    fear    that     you    might    be 

"  struck." 

She  moves  with  such  a  bustle  and  rush, — 

Such  an  elemental  stir  and  crush, 

As  makes  the  branches  bend  and  fall 

In  the  breeze  that  blows  up  a  thunder-squall. 


THE    OLD    WOMAN    OF    SURREY.  99 

And  yet,  it  is  only  her  endless  "  hurry  " ; 
She  's  not  so  bad  if  she  would  n't  "  worry," 
And,  for  all  the  worlds  that  she  has  to  make, 
If  the  six  days'  time  she  'd  only  take. 

You  may  talk  about  Surrey,  or  Devon,  or 

Kent, 

But  I  doubt  if  a  special  location  was  meant ; 
It  may  sound  severe,  —  but  it  seems  to  me 
That  a  "  representative  "  woman  was  she  ; 

And  that  here  and  there  you  may  chance 

to  trace 

Some  specimens  extant  of  the  race : 
For  a  slip  of  the  stock,  as  I  've  a  notion, 
Somehow  "in  the  Mayflower"  crossed  the 

ocean. 


PICKLE    PEPPEES. 


Peter  Piper  picked  a  peck  of  pickle  peppers ; 

And  a  peck  of  pickle  peppers  Peter  Piper  picked ; 
If  Peter  Piper  picked  a  peck  of  pickle  peppers 

Where's  the  peck  of  pickle  peppers  Peter  Piper 
picked?" 

POOR  Peter  toiled  his  life  away, 
That  afterward  the  world  might  say 
"  "Where  is  the  peck  of  peppers  he 
Did  gather  so  industriously  ?  " 
The  peppers  are  embalmed  in  metre,  — 
But  who,  alas !  inquires  for  Peter  ? 


PICKLE    PEPPERS.  101 

In  sun  or  storm,  by  night  and  day, 
Scant  time  for  sleep,  and  none  for  play, 
Still  the  poor  fool  did  nothing  reck, 
If  only  he  might  pick  his  peck  : 
And  what  result  from  all  hath  sprung, 
But  just  to  bite  somebody's  tongue  ? 
Or,  —  Lady  Fortune  playing  fickle,  — 
Get  some  one  in  a  precious  pickle? 


HUMPTY    DUMPTY. 


"  Humpty  Dumpty  sat  on  a  wall : 
Humpty  Dumpty  had  a  great  fall : 
Not  all  the  king's  horses  nor  all  the  king's  men 
Could  set  Humpty  Dumpty  up  again." 

FULL  many  a  project  that  never  was  hatched 

Falls  down,  and  gets  shattered  beyond  be 
ing  patched ; 

And  luckily,  too !  for  if  all  came  to  chick 
ens, 

Then  things  without  feathers  might  go  to 
the  dickens. 


HUMPTY   DUMPTY.  103 

If  each  restless  unit  that  moves  among  men 
Might  climb  to  a  place  with  the  privileged 

« ten," 
Pray  tell  us  where  all  the  commotion  would 

stop ! 
Must  the  whole  pan  of  milk,  forsooth,  rise 

to  the  top  ? 

If  always  the  statesman  attained  to  his  hopes, 
And   grasped  the   great  helm,  who  would 

stand  by  the  ropes  ? 
Or  if  all  dainty  fingers  their  duties  might 

choose, 
Who  would  wash  up  the  dishes,  and  polish 

the  shoes? 

Suppose  every  aspirant  writing  a  book 
Contrived  to  get  published,  by  hook  or  by 
crook ; 


104  HUMPTY   DUMPTY. 

Geologists  then  of  a  later  creation 

Would  be  startled.,  I  fancy,  to  find  a  forma 
tion 

Proving  how  the  poor  world  did  most  wo- 
fully  sink 

Beneath  mountains  of  paper,  and  oceans  of 
ink! 

Or  even  suppose  all  the  women  were  mar 
ried; 

By  whom  would  superfluous  babies  be  car 
ried  ? 

Where  would  be  the  good  aunts  that  should 
knit  all  the  stockings  ? 

Or  nurses,  to  do  up  the  singings  and  rock- 
ings  ? 

Wise  spinsters,  to  lay  down  their  wonderful 
rules, 


HUMPTY   DUMPTY.  105 

And  with   theories  rare    to  enlighten   the 

fools,  — 
Or   to   look    after   orphans,   and    primary 

schools  ? 

No !     Failure 's  a  part  of  the  infinite  plan  ; 
Who  finds  that  he  can't,  must  give  way  to 

who  can ; 
And  as  one  and  another  drops  out  of  the 

race, 
Each  stumbles  at  last  to  his  suitable  place. 

So  the  great  scheme  works  on,  —  though, 
like  eggs  from  the  wall, 

Little  single  designs  to  such  ruin  may  fall, 

That  not  all  the  world's  might,  of  its  horses 
or  men, 

Could  set  their  crushed  hopes  at  the  sum 
mit  again. 


SUNDAY    AND    MONDAY. 


"  As  Tommy  Snooks  and  Bessy  Brooks 

Were  walking  out  one  Sunday, 
Says  Tommy  Snooks  to  Bessy  Brooks, 
To-morrow  will  be  Monday." 

No  doubt  you  are  smiling  at  such  a  remark, 

And  thinking  poor  Snooks  but  a  pitiful 
spark ; 

But  the  words  have  a  meaning,  worth  look 
ing  for,  too, 

As  I'll  presently  try  and  demonstrate  for 
you. 


SUNDAY   AND    MONDAY.  107 

'Twas  a  pity,  indeed,  in  that  moment  of 
leisure, 

To  dampen  poor  Bessy's  hebdomadal  pleas 
ure, 

Suggesting  that  close  on  the  beautiful  Sun 
day 

Must  come  all  the  common-place  horrors 
of  Monday ; 

That   he    to    his    toiling,    and    she  to    her 

tub, 
Must  turn,  and  take  up  with  another  week's 

rub; 
Yet  a  truth  for  us  all,  since  the  shade  of 

the  real 
Follows  fast  on  the  track  of  each  sunny 

ideal. 


108  SUNDAY    AND    MONDAY. 

Now   and   then   we   may  pause   on   Life's 

pleasant  oases ; 
But  between  lie  the  desert's  grim,  desolate 

spaces ; 

And  our  feet,  with  all  patience,  must  trav 
erse  them  still, 
Reaching    forward    to    blessing,    through 

bearing  of  ill. 

Yet  for   Snooks  and  his   Bessy,  —  for  me 

and  for  you,  — 
Comes  a  Saturday  night  when  the  wage 

will  be  due ; 
And   we'll  say  to  each  other,  in  ecstasy, 

one  day, 
u  To-morrow  —  the  endless  to-morrow  —  is 

Sunday ! " 


CONCLUSION. 


DOUBTLESS  I  might  go  on  to  quote, 
With  added  paraphrase  and  note, 
Enough  of  rhymes  to  fill  a  scroll, 
That,  bundled  up,  should  be  a  roll 
As  bulky  as  a  broad-brimmed  hat ; 
But  "  verbum  sapienti  sat ! " 
Suffice  it  to  have  struck  the  vein, 

And  shown  some  specimens  of  ore  ; 
If  any  seek  for  further  gain, 

The  mine  still  holds  abundance  more. 
A  mental  pickaxe  and  a  biggin 
Are  all  you  need  to  go  to  diggin'. 


110  CONCLUSION. 

For,  as  the  Swedish  seer  contends, 
All  things  comprise  an  inner  sense  ; 
There 's  nothing  we  can  write  or  say, 
In  howsoever  simple  way, 
But  seems  a  body,  built  to  hide 
The  soul,  that  straightway  is  supplied ; 
And  many  a  fool,  and  prophet  too, 
Hath  spoken  wiser  than  he  knew. 

One  parting  word,  and  I  am  gone  : 
If  I  've  prevailed  to  make  you  see 
These  things  as  they  appear  to  me, 

Then  have  I  proved  my  Goose  a  Swan ; 

And  I,  descended  of  her  line, 

And  bearing  yet  the  ancient  name, 

May,  for  this  ancestress  of  mine, 

Claim  place  upon  the  page  of  fame  ;  — 

That  not  a  bard  of  Saxon  tongue 

More  true  to  nature  ever  sung ; 


CONCLUSION.  Ill 

More  surely  soothed,  more  deeply  taught, 
Or  passing  fact  more  keenly  caught ; 
And  that  —  exalted  side  by  side 
With  him  of  Avon,  in  the  pride 
And  love  of  millions  —  we  should  lay 
The  tribute  at  her  feet  to-day 
That  owns  her,  in  this  latter  age, 
Goose,  truly,  —  but,  in  savor,  Sage  ! 


THE    END. 


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RUDD  &  CARLETON, 

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NOTHING   TO   WEAR. 

A  Satirical   Poem.     By  WILLIAM  ALLEN  BUTLER.     Pro 
fusely  and  elegantly  embellished  with   fine  Illustrations 
on  tinted  paper,  by  Hoppin.     Muslin,  price  50  cents. 

MILES   STANDISH   ILLUSTRATED. 

With  exquisite  Photographs  from  original  Drawings  by 
JOHN  W.  EHNINCER,  illustrating  Longfellow's  new  Poem. 
Bound  in  elegant  quarto,  morocco  covers,  price  $6  oo 

BOOK   OF   THE   CHESS   CONGRESS. 

A  complete  History  of  Chess  in  America  and  Europe,  with 
Morphy's  best  games.  By  D.  W.  FISKE,  editor  of  Che*l 
Monthly  (assisted  by  Morphy  and  Paulsen).  Price  $  I  50. 

WOMAN'S  THOUGHTS  ABOUT  WOMEN. 
The  latest  and  best  work  by  the  author  of  "John  Halifax, 
Gentleman,"    "Agatha's   Husband,"   "The  Ogilvies," 
&c.     From  the  London  edition.     Muslin,  price  $\  oo. 


LIST  OP   BOOKS  PUBLISHED 


VERNON  GROVE; 

&y  Mrs.  CAROLINE  H.  GLOVER.  "  A  Novel  which  will 
give  its  author  high  rank  among  the  novelists  of  the 
day." — Atlantic  Monthly.  1 2mo.,  Muslin,  price  $  I  oo 

BALLAD   OF  BABIE  BELL, 

And  other  Poems.  By  THOMAS  BAILEY  ALDRICH.  Thf 
first  selected  collection  of  verses  by  this  author,  r  2mo 
Exquisitely  printed,  and  bound  ip  muslin,  price  75  cents. 

TRUE  LOVE  NEVER  DID  RUN  SMOOTH. 

An  Eastern  Tale,  in  Verse.  By  THOMAS  BAILEY  ALDRICH, 
author  of  "  Babie  Bell,  and  othe/  Poems."  Printed 
on  colored  plate  paper.  Muslin,  price  50  cents 

BEATRICE   CENCI. 

A  Historical  Novel.  By  F.  D.  GUERRAZZI.  Translated 
from  the  original  Italian  by  LUIGI  MONTI.  Muslin, 
two  volumes  in  one,  with  steel  portrait  price  81  25. 

ISABELLA   ORSINI. 

A  new  historical  novel.  By  F.  D.  GUERRAZZI,  authoi 
of  "Beatrice  Cenci."  Translated  by  MONTI,  of  Har 
vard  College.  With  steel  portrait.  Muslin,  price  $1  25. 

DOCTOR   ANTONIO. 

A  charming  Love  Tale  of  Italy.  By  G.  RUFFINI,  au 
thor  of  " Lorenzo  Benoni,"  "Dear  Experience,"  &c 
From  the  last  London  edition.  Muslin,  price  $1  oo. 

DEAR   EXPERIENCE. 

A  Tale.  By  G.  RUFFINI,  author  of  "Doctor  Antonio/ 
"Lorenzo  Benoni,"  &c.  With  illustrations  by  Leech, 
of  the  Jjondon  Punch.  I2mo.  Muslin,  price  $i  oo 


HY    HUDD    ANIi 


LECTURES   OF   LOLA   MONTEZ. 

Including  her  "  Autobiography,"  "  Wits  and  Women  of 
Paris,"  "  Comic  Aspect  of  Love,"  "  Gallantry,"  &c 
A  new  edition,  large  i2mo.  Muslin,  price  $1  25. 

EDGAR   POE   AND   HIS   CRITICS. 

By  Mrs.  SARAH  HELEN  WHITMAN.  A  volume  possessing 
many  attractions  and  which  has  created  considerable  in 
terest  among  the  literati,  izmo.  Muslin,  price  75  cts 

THE   GREAT   TRIBULATION; 

Or  Things  coming  on  the  Earth.  By  Rev.  JOHN  GUMMING, 
D.D.,  author  of  "  Apocalyptic  Sketches,"  <kc.  From 
the  English  edition.  FIRST  SERIES.  Muslin,  price  $1  oo. 

THE    GREAT    TRIBULATION. 

SECOND  SERIES  of  the  new  work  by  Rev.  DR.  GUMMING, 
which  has  awakened  such  an  excitement  throughout 
the  religious  community,  izmo.  Muslin,  price  $1  oo. 

ADVENTURES   OF   VERDANT   GREEN. 

By  CUTHBERT  BEDE,  B.A.  The  best  humorous  story  of 
College  Life  ever  published.  8otk  edition,  from  English 
plates.  Nearly  200  original  illustrations,  price  $1  oo, 

CURIOSITIES  OF   NATURAL   HISTORY. 
By  FRANCIS  T.  BUCKLAND,  M.A.     A  sparkling  collection 
of  surprises  in  Natural   History,  and   the  charm  of  a 
lively  narrative.  From  4th  London  edition,  price  $125. 

BROWN'S   CARPENTER'S  ASSISTANT. 

The  best  practical  work  on  Architecture ;  with  Plans  for 
every  description  of  Building.  Illustrated  with  o*— 
aoo  Plates.  Strongly  bcund  in  leather,  pncc  $5  oo, 


BY    RUPD    AXD   CARLE!  ON. 


THE    VAGABOND. 

A  volume  of  Miscellaneous  Papers,  treating  in  colloquia 
sketches  upon  Literature,  Society,  and  Art.  By  ADAM 
BADEAU.  Bound  in  muslin,  izmo,  price  $1  oo. 

ALEXANDER   VON    HUMBOLDT. 

A  new  and  popular  Biography  of  this  celebrated  Savant, 
including  his  travels  and  labors,  with  an  introduction  by 
BAYARD  TAYLOR.  One  vol.,  steel  portrait,  price  $J  25. 

LOVE   (L'AMOUR). 

By  M.  JULES  MICHELET.  Author  of  "  A  History  of 
France,"  &c.  Translated  from  the  French  by  J.  W. 
Pa'mer,  M.D.  One  vol.,  I  zmo.  Muslin,  price  $1  oo. 

WOMAN    (LA   FEMME). 

A  sequel  and  companion  to  "  Love"  (L'Amour)  by  the 
same  author,  MICHELET.  Translated  from  the  French 
by  Dr.  J.  W.  Palmer.  I2mo.  Muslin,  price  $1  oo. 

LIFE   OF   HUGH   MILLER. 

Author  of  "Schools  and  Schoolmasters,"  "Old  Red 
Sandstone,"  &c.  Reprinted  from  the  English  edition. 
One  large  I2mo.  Muslin,  new  edition,  price  $1  25. 

AFTERNOON  OF  UNMARRIED  LIFE. 

An  interesting  theme  admirably  treated.  Companion  to 
Miss  Muloch's."  Woman's  Thoughts  about  Women." 
From  London  edition.  I2mo.  Muslin,  price,  $1  oo. 

SOUTHWOLD. 

By  MRS.  LILLIE    DEVEREUX    UMSTED.     "A  spirited  an 
well  drawn  Society   novel — somewhat   intensified   but 
bold  and  cle\er."      izmo.     Muslin,  price  $i    oo. 


LTST  or  5 


DOESTICK5'  LETTERS. 

Being  a  compilation  of  the  Original  Lcit-Ts  of  O  K.  P 
DOESTICKS,  P.  B.  Y/ith  many  comic  tinted  illustrationi 
by  John  McLenan.  I2mo.  Muslir.  price  $i  oo 

PLU-RI-BUS-TAH. 

A  song  that's  by-no-author.  Not  a  parody  on  "  Hia 
watha."  By  DOESTICKS.  With  150  humorous  illus 
trations  by  McLenan.  I2mo.  Muslin,  price  $1  oo 

THE    ELEPHANT   CLU.''. 

An  irresistibly  droll  volume.  By  DOESTICKS,  assisted  by 
KNIGHT  Russ  OCKSIDE,  M.D.  One  of  his  best  works 
Profuselv  illustrated  by  McLenan.  Musl:>i,  price  $1  oo. 

THE  WITCHES  OF  NEW  YORK. 

A  new  humorous  work  by  DOESTICKS  ;  being  minute, 
particular,  and  faithful  Revelations  cf  Black  An 
Mysteries  in  Gotham,  izmo.  Muslin,  price  $i  oo 

TWO   WAYS   TO   WEDLOCK. 

A  Novellette.  Reprinted  from  the  columns  of  Morris  & 
Willis'  New  York  Honte  Journal.  ,.1-40.  Hand 
somely  bound  in  muslin.  Price  $  oo, 

HAMMOND'S  POLITICAL  HISTORY. 

A  History  of  Political  Parties  in  the  State  of  New  York. 
ByjABEZ  B.  HAMMOND,  L.L.D.  3  vols.,  octavo,  with  steel 
portraits  of  all  the  Governors.  Muslin.  Price,  $6  co. 

ROMANCE   OF    A    POOR    YOUNG    MAN. 
From  the  French  of  OCTAVE   FEUILLET.     An    admiiabler 
and    striking    work    of  fiction.     Translated    from   the 
Seventh   Paris  elition.      I2mo.      Muslin,  price  $1    oo 


OF  BOOKS   PUBLISHED 


THE  CULPRIT  FAY. 

By  JOSEPH  RODMAN  DRAKE.  A  charming  edition  of  thh 
world-celebrated  Faery  Poem.  Printed  on  colored 
plate  paper.  Muslin,  I2mo.  Frontispiece.  Price,  50  eta. 

THE  NEW  AND  THE  OLD ; 

Or,  California  and  India  in  Romantic  Aspects.  By  J. 
W.  PALMER,  M.D.,  author  of  "  Up  and  Down  the  Irra- 
waddi."  Abundantly  illustrated.  Muslin,  I2mo.  $1,25. 

UP  AND  DOWN  THE  IRRAWADDI; 

Or,  the  Golden  Dagon.  Being  'passages  of  adventure  in 
the  Burman  Empire.  By  J.  W.  PALMER,  M.D.,  author 
of  "  The  New  and  the  Old."  Illustrated.  Price,  $  i  ,00. 

THE   HABITS   OF   GOOD   SOCIETY. 

An  interesting  handbook  for  Ladies  and  Gentlemen  ;  with 
thoughts,  hints,  and  anecdotes,  concerning  social  obser 
vances,  taste,  and  good  manners.  Muslin,  price  $  i  25. 

RECOLLECTIONS  OF   THE  REVOLUTION. 

A  private  manuscript  journal  of  home  events,  kept  during 
the  American  Revolution  by  the  Daughter  of  a  Clergy 
man.  Printed  in  unique  style.  Muslin.  Price,  f>i,oo 

HARTLEY  NORMAN. 

A  New  Novel.  "  Close  and  accurate  observation,  enables 
the  author  to  present  the  scenes  of  everyday  life  with 
great  spirit  and  originality."  Muslin,  izmo.  Price,$i,25. 

MOTHER   GOOSE  FOR   GROWN   FOLKS. 

An  unique  and  attractive  little  Holiday  volume.  Printed 
on  tinted  paper,  with  frontispiece  by  Billings.  I2mo. 
Elegantly  bound  in  fancy  colored  muslin,  price  75  cts. 


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